Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Page 30

“The fondant is fine, don’t you think?” Willow held a fork to Cheri’s mouth.

  “Works for me.”

  “We’ll take the fondant. Whatever you think is best. Just make it good!”

  Before Carmen could respond, Willow dragged Cheri out into the street. Cheri glanced at her, whistling low. “And mom thought you needed my help…”

  “Well, we were done, right? If we don’t get back soon, your mother will blame you for not getting me out of there fast enough. For some reason green goop on my face and people playing with my feet are essential elements to a perfect wedding, and I don’t want to ruin that for her.”

  “Well, she’s afraid you won’t come back for presents I think.”

  Confused, Willow shrugged. “I can’t see why. I mean, I think it’s ridiculous, if you want me to be honest. We don’t need anything. But I don’t want to make your mom feel bad.”

  “Um… it’s just that…” Cheri groaned.

  “What?”

  “People like to give presents.”

  Fairbury’s One-Day-Spa erupted in cheers as they reentered the building. A waiting pedicurist almost dragged Willow to her “station” and began attacking the rough heels on Willow’s feet. By the time the woman finished, she wondered if there was any skin left on them. However, her feet had never felt so soft and tender. As the pedicurist spent half an hour painting one foot’s toes perfectly, and the manicurist painted an identical “French style” on her fingernails, Willow lay back in the chair and tried to relax.

  “Well, I feel like I should be puckered and wrinkled, but my skin is smoother than I’ve ever seen it!” Willow commented, hoping it was the right thing to say.

  “Now, food!” Cheri announced as a knock sounded on the fellowship hall door.

  Lily and Cheri raced to the door carrying huge bags of Chinese food. “Food has arrived— there’s a catch,” Lily insisted. “I ordered chopsticks. No one uses utensils. Chopsticks only.”

  Willow gave Marianne an incredulous look before remarking, “I think we should have done our faces after dinner.”

  Time ticked by and the party grew more and more silly as Lee and her crew gave everyone individual “makeovers.” From hair-dos from any century, make up from any century, and odd adjustments to clothing, the makeup artists transformed everyone in the room into a motley array of “painted ladies,” and yet everyone looked smashing as the “persona” the stylists created. Alexa walked around the room in her heels, forties dress, and glamour girl hair and makeup, taking pictures of everyone with one of her brother’s back-up cameras. “Just leave your name and address on the notepad by the door and I’ll be happy to mail copies of your pictures,” she announced to the room.

  Once adequately primped and pampered, the guests all gathered in a circle, piling gifts at Willow’s feet. The relief she felt when she saw that most were small-sized boxes lessened as one after another rose before her. With a prayer for inexpensive and consumable contents, Willow forced herself to smile around her and say, “Well, no one can say that I do not have generous and thoughtful friends.” From the look of approval on Marianne’s face, it seemed that she had managed to say just the right thing.

  She opened Lee’s gift first. Several bottles of hair products that smelled of jasmine assured her that her hair would be smooth, silky, and cure every dead end she could produce. Willow thought it an odd wedding present, but she was grateful it wouldn’t fill her house for the next twenty years. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, shame filled her heart. These ladies, no matter how unnecessary it all was, wanted to give—to show affection and support for her and Chad. Willow just hoped Chad liked the scent of Jasmine and was grateful that he didn’t have much hair for it to cling to, or Joe and the guys would have too much fodder for teasing.

  A knit camisole and panty set with “Kiss me, I’m the Bride” emblazoned across the chest confused her. She glanced around the room, perplexed, and said, “It’s really comfortable looking but why the words when they’ll just be covered by clothes?” Her answer came in a burst of giggles—and nothing more.

  Several sets of bath salts, bubble bath, lotion, shower gel, and to Willow’s utter amusement, candles, followed the initial packages. Then Marianne handed her one smiling mischievously. “This is your joke gift.”

  Tentatively, Willow unwrapped the paper and laid it aside in the rapidly growing pile. From the garment box, she pulled two pillowcases. Each pillowcase showed half of a kissing couple. Willow flushed a deep crimson and folded them quickly covering the box. “Very funny, Marianne—” She paused. Suddenly calling her mother-in-law to be by her first name seemed cold and impersonal. She’d have to talk to Chad about that. Chad. Oh, wait until he sees these pillowcases. Ugh, she groaned to herself.

  Lee thrust another present into her hands before she could recover from her change in thought. Inside, she found a beautiful picnic basket. The materials and style spoke loudly of its quality—certainly nicer than anything she’d ever owned. “I know we’ll use this often!” she said, unlatching the cover. His and her robes light terry robes filled the basket, and protected between them laid a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolate truffles. “Oh!” Willow fumbled for a moment and then smiled confidently. “It’ll be perfect for going to the swimming hole. Thank you so much!”

  She watched as the other ladies exchanged glances, unsure how to handle her apparent cluelessness, but she had finally discerned the point of this shower. Alexa caught her eyes and winked. Encouraged, she added as if an afterthought, “I won’t even need to bring towels anymore.”

  Presents flew in rapid succession after that. It seemed as if she unwrapped one sheer nightie only moments before someone thrust another into her hands. Her face slowly turned from beet to puce, until Grandma Tesdall passed her a package, muttering something about indecency. Knowing the irascible old woman’s penchant for making people miserable, Willow grew nervous. However, at the sight of a green and blue striped seersucker housecoat, she jumped from her “throne” and raced after the startled woman, throwing her arms around her. “Thank you!”

  Collective laughter filled the fellowship hall, growing steadily louder as she slipped the housecoat on over her skirt and blouse. “Now this is more like it. I won’t freeze my fanny trying to milk Ditto in this.”

  Cheri’s gift came late in the lineup. Certain that it was another scrap of satin and lace held together by ribbons too narrow to cover anything, Willow unwrapped the small garment box. The weight hinted at something more substantial, but she didn’t put it past Cheri to add something to disguise it. However, as she peeled back layers of tissue, Willow smiled. A handmade journal, “Willow style,” and in Willow’s wedding colors, lay nestled in the box. The hours Cheri must have spent searching for just the right papers and colors—her throat swelled at the thought. “Oh Cheri! It’s beautiful! How did—”

  “I just thought, ‘If Willow was bringing a gift to a personal shower, what would she bring?’ and this is what I decided.”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you! I know exactly how I’ll use it too!” Seeing the journal reminded her of the engagement album in her bag. “Hey, can you find my tote bag and get the album out of it? I meant to share tonight.”

  As the women oohed and aahed over the pictures, Willow opened a box with a t-shirt that said, “Taken.” Excitedly, she raced for the bathrooms and emerged almost immediately wearing the t-shirt. “There. No one can doubt it anymore.”

  Lily’s gift was a set of scented padded hangers. The relief she felt over another “normal” gift nearly overwhelmed her. Several more joke gifts, a set of silk sheets, and two more bath sets later, the party ended. They loaded Marianne’s trunk with everything, thanked Lily, Alexa, Lee, and all of her “team” for the wonderful evening, and despite her protests that they should clean up first, Marianne shoved her in the car and waved at the others. “We’ve got that covered. The bride does not clean up after her shower.”

  The car rolled to a gentle st
op beside Chad’s truck. Head pounding with exhaustion and her nerves screaming for relief, Willow climbed from the car and hugged the Tesdall women. “Thank you—I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you did this for me.”

  “I can tell you wanted to shove every—”

  Unwilling to discuss her discomfort with some of the gifts, Willow shook her head. “I need to take a walk. If you’re in bed before I get up, I’ll see you in the morning.” Something in Marianne’s expression bothered her. She hugged Marianne once more, whispering, “I’m not upset. I just need to be alone for a bit. Truly.”

  The loss of a dog, gamboling about her as she strolled across the pasture hit her most at times like this. In just a week, she’d have that again, thanks to Chad. That thought brought her mind back to her own gift. In recent days, she’d become more confident of its perfection and less confident in her ability to keep it a secret.

  The faint sound of the back screen door slamming shut reached her as she was halfway across the pasture. Though she knew he couldn’t see it yet, she held up her cellphone, pressing the power button to make it glow. “Over here,” she called as his silhouette came into view.

  He jogged to her side and asked, “So how did it go?”

  “How’d it go?” he queried jogging up to her.

  “You know exactly how it went. I have special torture planned for you. You knew what would happen and you didn’t warn me.”

  In an obvious attempt to distract her, Chad pointed to her shirt. “I like that.”

  She grinned. She’d get even later, now was for fun. “I did too. It doesn’t match my skirt, but I had to put it on when I opened it.”

  “You like it?”

  “You know,” she mused, staring across the pasture toward the line of trees by the stream. “For someone as intelligent as you usually are, sometimes you’re not too bright.”

  “‘’splain, Lucy.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Tell me what you mean.”

  “Who’s Lucy?” Willow was not too tired to be irked that yet another thing Chad said made absolutely no sense to her.”

  “It’s a TV show. Now tell me about you being glad you’re taken.”

  “Well, it’s not just that—I mean—it’s more that I belong somewhere again, and I like where I belong.”

  “Aww, lass…” Chad wrapped one arm around her waist and led her further from the house to her favorite spot along the stream. “Tell me about the shower.”

  “Well, first we all got our faces stripped, sanded, and primed before Lee’s friends gave them a good oiling…”

  A choked sound caused Willow to glance at Chad. A second passed, two—five. He leaned over, his hands gripping his knees, laughing. His shoulders shook, and as he raised his face to speak, she saw tears pouring down his face. “Wha—”

  “Priceless, my girl. You are priceless.”

  “Well, it’s true! They did the same things to my hands too. Look!” She thrust her freshly manicured hands with their “French” polish in his face. “They even gave them ‘coats’ and a ‘sealant.’ It all sounds like a lot of woodworking to me.”

  “And what about the cake,” he gasped, wheezing between his fresh gales of laughter.

  “They’re doing the fondant.”

  Managing some control over his mirth, Chad added, “And the dance floor?”

  Willow answered every question as though bored. She couldn’t understand why everyone acted like this was a difficult process. “Why does everyone keep doing this? I thought you—”

  “I’m trying to get it out of you, so that I can field the answers for you. Mom asks about the stage for Argosy Junction, and I can assure her that it’s taken care of. If I know that the caterer is on schedule and that you have all the tables and chairs and insurance for the horse and carriage, then we’re set. I can stop everyone from giving you grief. It’s just me asking instead of twenty others.”

  She sank to the edge of the bank and rested her head against the trunk of her favorite tree. “I wondered something—about your mom.”

  “What about her?”

  All through the shower, the question had bugged her. Now it all came out in a rush. “I can’t keep calling her Marianne. Is there something she’d want me to call her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it seems so disrespectful to call her by her first name, and yet I can’t call her, ‘Mrs. Tesdall.’”

  “Of course you can’t, that’ll be your name.”

  A glance at Chad’s face told her that he thought her upcoming name a fine one. Not to be distracted, she pressed him for an answer. “Come on, what do I do?”

  “We call her ‘mom,’ but I wouldn’t want you to feel disloyal to yours.”

  Willow thought for a few minutes. “I called Mother, mother. Mom works. What would she think of that?”

  “Ask her. I guarantee you’ll be calling her mom like the rest of us from now on, though, so don’t if you’re not sure.”

  With a contented sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder. “I have a mother again—a mom. What about your dad?”

  “He’s just Dad.”

  “Dad,” she echoed. “I have never had a father. Dad. I like that.”

  Chapter 100

  A strange car crept up the driveway on Thursday morning. Near the edge of the yard, Chad tied a scraper to his truck bumper, recognized Adric Garrison’s Mustang, and waved. Adric helped a pleasant looking strawberry blonde from the passenger seat and led her to Chad’s truck. “Hey, I came to talk to you and Willow about something.” He turned to the woman beside him and said, “Oh, and this is Rebecca Jacobs.”

  “Rebecca. Nice to meet you. Are you both coming Saturday?”

  Rebecca and Adric exchanged glances. Adric shrugged. “We hadn’t planned to—I mean, I understood that the church was invited, but I didn’t want to presume—”

  Hoping to avoid further awkwardness, Chad smiled and turned toward the house. “Well, we hope you’ll change your mind. Come on in, I’ll find Willow.”

  While Adric and his companion made small talk with Marianne and Christopher, Chad went upstairs to find Willow. He paused in front of her door hesitantly. Her door was never closed. After a moment’s hesitation, he knocked. “Willow?”

  “Oh, come in.” As Chad entered, he saw Willow wrapping four boxes on her bed. “I was just wrapping gifts for your parents and my grandparents.”

  “Why presents for them?”

  “Well, I got gifts for Christopher and Cheri, why not your parents? They’ve done so much for this day and, my grandfather is going to do the walking thing and, I just thought—”

  Chad tugged on her arm. “Well, can you leave them for a minute, Adric is here.”

  “Adric…” she thought for a moment and then smiled. “The girl-of-the-month-club man?”

  Barely stifling a snicker, Chad nodded. “He wanted to talk to us.”

  “Why not just do it at the wedding?”

  “He wasn’t coming, but I think he is now. I guess he wasn’t sure if Rebecca was invited.”

  Willow stopped at the top of the stairs. “Rebecca? Is she Miss May?”

  “Yep.”

  Before she took another step, Willow looked up at Chad with sorrowful eyes. “Do you think this is worth it? Is finding the right woman worth all he’s going through?”

  “‘He who finds a wife, finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord.’ Why wouldn’t it be worth it if the Word says it is?”

  She shrugged. “Well, if you put it that way…”

  Marianne started upstairs to find Chad and Willow, but seeing Chad kissing his fiancée, apparently oblivious to anything around him sent her hurrying back downstairs with a blinding grin on her face. “They’ll be down in a minute. Why don’t I find something for you to drink?”

  “We’re fine, Mrs. Tesdall.”

  She threw a pointed look at her husband and nodded slightly as he suggested that he show the coupl
e around the farm while they waited. “I’ll be right behind you. I just have to ask my wife about something.” The second the couple stepped off of the porch, Christopher threw up his hands. “What is it, woman!”

  “They’re kissing! Right upstairs! Really, truly kissing. It was so cute.”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “As in making out or just kissing.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Well, they’re still not down here; you tell me. Now get out there before that man thinks we’re trying to get rid of him.”

  Chad and Willow met Adric and his friend on the front porch. Willow asked intelligent questions with a deceptively calm air. Chad knew better, especially when she asked, “So how many acres do you have and how many do you want?”

  “I want to keep around ten I think. That leaves over a hundred acres—I can’t remember. I thought we had one-sixty but my sister thought it was one-twenty, so we have to get out the deeds. Before I go to a realtor, I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why me?”

  Adric shrugged. “Christine, the girl from February, she thought that the people closest to the property might like first chance at it. It made sense to me and since you and Chad were from church, came to you first.”

  Chad interjected before Willow got too interested. “And you don’t have a price in mind yet?”

  “I have no idea what land around here sells for, but I’d want to be sure it was a fair price for both of us.”

  Willow smiled brightly and offered Adric her hand. “I want to talk to my financial guy about it and then I’ll call you back. Maybe you and he can talk about it on Saturday.”

  As they watched Adric and Rebecca drive away, Willow nearly bounced. “I could triple crops! I’d own the stone table! We could have more animals—even a horse for you. Didn’t you once say you liked horses?” Her eyes grew wide. “Hunting! There’d be even more room for hunting!”

  “You really want to do it?”

  “If Bill thinks it’s a good idea, why not?”